


A Year Ago Today

by MsCFH



Series: Corporate AU [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCFH/pseuds/MsCFH
Summary: For their one year anniversary, Sansa has something special in mind.





	A Year Ago Today

**Author's Note:**

> My dears, after I hurt all your poor little hearts with the last instalment for this series, here some smut to make up for that.  
Timewise this clearly is a while before what happens in "A Vision in White".

"Happy anniversary."

The words were husked against the skin of her neck, and Margaery smiled, only and alone the thought on her mind that she had to be the luckiest woman alive to call Sansa Stark her girlfriend.

They had not celebrated their anniversary in the way that Margaery had expected it. Actually, they had not even celebrated it on the date she'd assumed they would, the more significant portion of the last year.

It was not the first time in her life that she hit the one-year mark in a relationship, but the first time it came up with a discussion; and not about minor details as to whether or not to get each other gifts or what to do. Their discussion had turned around the precise calendar date. 

It had started with Sansa bringing it up, suggesting they should go on a short trip for the occasion.

"We could go to Queenscrown," Sansa had suggested sometime in early January when they lounged around on Margaery's bed in post-orgasmic bliss. She'd cuddled into Margaery's side, fingers skimming over the still damp skin of her chest. "Rent a cabin, sit by the fire, enjoy the hot springs."

"It will be a bit too warm for that by then, won't it?"

"The seasons lasts until late April, there are sometimes there is fresh snow even in May."

It had taken Margaery a short moment, but then she'd sat up.

"Darling, when do you assume our anniversary to be?"

Perfectly shaped eyebrows had drawn up. "The day we met. April 12."

Margaery's lips had fallen open for a short instant then she'd huffed. "You are joking."

"You had a different date in mind?"

"July 28, "Margaery had countered. The day of their, albeit impromptu, proper first date. The day they had told each other how they felt for one another.

Then it had been Sansa who shook her head. "That is ridiculous. We were sleeping together for weeks at that point."

"That's _lovely_. And like the first time we were physically in a room together isn't ridiculous?"

"I knew," Sansa had declared. "From the moment that you walked into our meeting room."

As sweet at that sentiment was, Margaery had not been convinced. "Well, I didn't. I thought you were awful."

What had followed had been a discussion about when their anniversary actually was, trying to come up with a date they could compromise on.

Their first night spent together in Old Oak brought a negating response from Margaery.

"You mean when you left before I woke up and proceeded to ghost me?"

"I didn't ghost you."

… it went back and forth like that for a while. 

At last, they tentatively agreed to consider the day Sansa had asked her out, June 25; marking the date she had shown up in Highgarden clearing up any misunderstandings that still loomed between them.

Albeit it had been bordering on an argument, the conversation had brought along some rather pleasant memories of their time together. With those, any further planning for an outing got sidelined, as they lost themselves in each other for the rest of the afternoon. 

The topic had not come up again for a couple of weeks, prompted by an invitation in their work schedules.

"Who signed this off?" Margaery had stood in front of her assistants desk, holding up her phone to present the meeting invitation.

\---

**Invitation: **First Annual Collaborative Board Meeting - Stark Inc. And Tyrell Corp.

**Tuesday, June 25,** **2018, 09:30 – 18:30**

Your attendance is required.

\---

Talla had blinked up at her. "You did. Along with Ms Stark."

Because Margaery's assistant was nothing short of compulsively organised she had pulled the respective email on her computer screen only a second later, letting Margaery's eyes skim over the request to confirm, the consecutive confirmation by both her and Sansa, along with the demand for Talla and Sansa's assistant Mya to make the according arrangements in the Winterfell headquarters.

It was not like Margaery had forgotten about the meeting itself. Just the date had not been apparent to her until that moment. 

Her initial request to postpone it quickly turned out as utopian. Flights and hotels had been booked, almost the entire corporate boards of both companies would be present, and had arranged their schedules accordingly, everything in Winterfell had been arranged to the minute. It was less than a month away, and there were no more chances for rearranging. 

(Not for something as personal and sentimental as an anniversary. Her grandmother's words, obviously.)

As the meeting came along with a review and a signing off to all quality management procedures and workflows set in place over the previous year. It was also not something that they'd get behind themselves within just a couple of hours. They were lucky and very sufficient if they managed the tight program within a regular eight hour work day.

The week leading up to it, both of them spent in exhausting preparation; they talked more than any other week, but what they talked and discussed, through emails, video calls and instant messages was strictly business.

Both of them had given up active participation in the project months ago but had agreed that the presentation of results (the straight-out success that it was) should be up to them since it was their "baby", something they had gotten off the ground.

The first couple of days, they spent with endless briefings about the progress, and after that, they sat together in conference calls to get the proper presentation prepared. It was a good 70 hour week they brought behind themselves, where at the end of the day, they did not have a whole lot energy for private conversation beyond a goodnight text, usually brought along with reminders of something business-related. 

The initial plan had foreseen that Margaery would fly into Winterfell two days in advance already, so they had at least the night before their anniversary together, but amicably let go of that idea. They were both perfectionists, and they knew that all they would have done was putting finishing touches on an already perfect presentation.

In all of that, the one week vacation in Old Oak that they planned to embark on the day after the meeting, seemed light the only thing that was slightly consoling; a silver stripe that made the workload bearable.

Margaery's flight arrived late on Monday night, and by the time she'd dropped off her grandmother at the hotel and made it to Sansa's apartment she'd only found her girlfriend sleeping already; she cuddled up behind her and passed out almost immediately.

Likewise, the morning of their anniversary did not exactly hold a lot of opportunity for time spent together. Sansa was, as usual, awake before her; the sound of the shower running stirring Margaery awake about thirty minutes before her alarm.

Their morning schedules were as different as they could be, but balanced each other out. Sansa liked to wake up early, take her time to properly wake up and go through her routine, while Margaery took every minute of sleep she could get and did not get out of bed a minute before she absolutely had to. This morning was no exemption. As Sansa, still clad in her bathrobe, shuffled to the kitchen for a cup of tea, on her way, she pressed a waking kiss to Margaery's lips, urging her not to fall asleep again.

It took another couple of minutes until Margaery actually did get up. With the Sansa in the kitchen, going through the newspaper, she breezed through her morning routine.

It remained a point of discussion between them who's way of proceeding was more efficient. Sansa called Margaery's process rushed, Margaery called Sansa's lacking time management and wasteful in time.

Not that it mattered, because it worked. For both of them, separately and together.

By the time Sansa came back to the bedroom to get dressed, Margaery was already in her raincoat (a lovely piece she had not needed before this northern beauty had stepped into her life) and slipping in her heels.

"You're picking up Olenna?" Sansa asked, freeing her hair from the towel she had wrapped it into.

Margaery nodded, shouldering her laptop bag, briefcase already in her hand. "Along with Mr Florent. His flight will be in about an hour, so we should be at the office right in time. Probably even sooner."

She smiled at her girlfriend's appearance.

"Do you think you will make it in time?" she couldn't help but tease, looking her up and down.

Sansa gave a roll of her eyes. "I'll have you know, I am thirty minutes ahead of my schedule."

Margaery looked at her for a moment. "You are not nervous about today, are you?"

A smile spread over Sansa's face as she shook her head. "Actually it was your presence that had me count in that extra time."

Now Margaery smirked and took a step towards Sansa. "Did you now?"

"But as you are in a rush…"

Margaery sighed. She was _right_ within her schedule. Two minutes ahead; clearly too little for what was in Sansa's mind, let alone fix what that would do to her looks.

Still, she decided to make the best of the time she did have, hooked a finger into the belt of Sansa's bathrobe and placed a soft kiss against her girlfriend's lips, that lost some of its chasteness when Sansa's tongue darted out and teased along her closed lips.

With a shaky breath, Margaery pulled away, while she still could, brought a couple of inches between their faces.

"Happy anniversary," she said softly.

Sansa's hands clasped behind her lower back, and she smiled. "Happy anniversary."

With a sigh, Margaery skimmed her fingers through wet hair. "I cannot wait for this day to be over."

"Just think," Sansa quipped. "By this time tomorrow, we will be already on a plane having mimosas."

"It is the only thing that brought me through this past week."

Sansa's eyes clouded over darkly. "The flight to Old Oak will be a complete waste of money. We will not see the outside of our hotel room."

"That better be a promise."

They had time for another short kiss, and then the two minutes already were up, and Margaery was on her way. (Not without giving Sansa a clap on her behind and reminding her not to be late.)

Despite the lovely distraction, Margaery was in the car and back in her planned schedule right on time. Having taken a vast amount of energy with this start into the day, she breezed through her chores effortlessly. Picked up her grandmother with a bright smile on her face, radiating nothing but confidence by the time they'd picked up Mr Florent.

This day, all the hard work that they had poured into it was sure to pay off.

The large conference room of the Winterfell headquarter was prepared to perfection. Portfolios sitting at every seat, along with name tags lined up in the seating order Sansa and her and discussed to exhaustion; the screens set up in the way they had requested it, Mya was already testing the connection to the office in Essos from where Paxter Redwyne would be joining their meeting.

Sansa walked it at point 9 am along with her brother, and from where Margaery was already seated, chatting up Harold Karstark, she allowed herself to be distracted by her looks for a brief moment. She was perfection.

Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid. High waisted black slacks complemented her figure. A wide white silk blouse reaching to the mid of her thigh, a short black buttoned-up vest, hugging her chest in the best way.

A marvellous picture of clean, corporate style, as usual.

In the people who streamed in, the men and women who would decide just how much of a future this cooperation would receive (it was out of question that it would not go forward, the question was just how much money they would sign off to do so) greetings and small talk where exchanged, and distracted Margaery into forgetting a specific detail in her own appearance.

As Robb and Olenna took the stage, speaking greeting and introducing words, Margaery's phone vibrated with a text message, and she barely stifled a chuckle when her eyes darted up to meet Sansa's across the table.

**Sansa Stark, 09:33**  
_That __skirt? Are you for real?_

She was wearing a cream coloured, short sleeved silk top, that was tugged into the tight black skirt she'd worn during their first meeting, in this very room.

It had been a spontaneous decision, the skirt had landed in her suitcase more by accident than purpose, the purpose had only come along when it had fallen in her hands this morning, and she'd slipped it on, admiring her own appearance in the mirror, remembering Sansa's appreciation of it. 

**Margaery Tyrell, 09:33**  
_I thought you'd appreciate it._

It was their anniversary after all.

She had not forgotten Sansa's words regarding this particular piece of clothing, worn when they'd first met; when Margaery had given a presentation that had set this collaboration off. 

("I wanted to rip that ridiculous tight skirt open and just bury my face between your legs, right there in our meeting room. ")

**Sansa Stark, 09:34**  
_You are lucky you're ass looks in it, as it does, or I'd break a fight, right now, about unprofessionalism._

"And without further ado, Margaery, would you give us the honours?"

Not missing a beat Margaery dropped her phone on the table, an entirely professional smile on her face as she got to her feet. 

It had been decided amicably between her and Sansa that Margaery would do most of the actual presentation, with Sansa in stand-by taking over inevitable questions that would follow. It played to both their strengths. Margaery was great at owning a room full of people, winning them over, charming them. And Sansa had a way of bringing arguments across, securely and firmly that shot down just about any follow-up questions.

It sparked her tiniest bit, motivated her in a way that it shouldn't have, that Sansa looked at her like she did.

For Margaery, two things in life were never not fun.

One was thriving at her job, and this collaboration was a perfect demonstration of all her hard work paying off. The other was giving Sansa a run for her money – privately or professionally. 

With people of such importance present – including her grandmother – she was, of course, subtle in the latter but had her fun nevertheless.

She stuck to little things while she went through her presentation. 

Sansa and her seats were at the very front of the table, opposite of each other. In a perfectly random-seeming way, she stepped into Sansa's way a lot more frequently than she needed to. Blocked her view to the monitor with her ass. From time to time she would -inconveniently- need to bend forward right next to Sansa to gather some papers, or reach of her glass of water. 

She shot a slight smile in Sansa's direction after each of these small considerations and put some extra sway into her movements as she walked back to the monitor to continue. 

Sansa herself was professional enough not to bat an eye, it was only ever when she looked directly at her that Margaery could read that she knew exactly what she was doing and that she loved and hated her for it equal measure.

The two and a half hours of the initial presentation went by like nothing. It was Olenna who was on her feet first, point 12pm.

"I believe we have a reservation to get to?"

Margaery suppressed the frown that wanted to appear. It was a minor detail, but one that threw her off. When her eyes darted to Sansa, a smirk was sent her way, just in time as Robb got to his feet.

"Yes, if everyone will follow Ms Stone, we will be gathering for a lovely lunch just downstairs."

Again Margaery felt irritated.

This clearly went against their plan, the schedule that Margaery had memorised down to the minute. The plan had foreseen to have catering served here, just about now. They had discussed this with the effort to keep everyone in the room, as they had feared that letting them go too far away would just lead to everyone on their phones, answering calls or emails. An anthill to get back together.

"I believe we continue at 2pm?" Robb addressed this confirming Margaery's concern just how much they had gone off-plan.

While the first people already streamed out, she pulled the sheet with the schedule discreetly towards herself, finding the changes that had not been agreed with her in black and white. Still she plastered a polite smile across her face.

Fingers wrapped around Margaery's wrist, stopping her from following the last of their guests out of the room. 

"I assume it will be enough time?" Robb followed up.

Raising to her feet, standing a good three inches taller than Margaery, Sansa nodded. "Everything will be ready."

Her tone drew Margaery's eyes to her. When she met them, she found a special spark, and at last, she began to understand.

The sly smile Sansa wore only widened once they were alone. The thumb lying at her wrist drew a small circle and then she let go, and closed the sliding doors, sealing it with a turn of a lock that was hidden beneath ornaments.

A soft chuckle left Margaery's lips, and she leaned back, bracing her hands against the meeting table.

This ought to be good.

"It would be considered important to share such major changes to the schedule with your co-chair," she chided, pursing her lips as Sansa took the first step towards her.

"I discussed it with Robb and Olenna." There was something predatory in Sansa's eyes that had Margaery's heart speed up. "Who by the way were both very understanding that considering it is our anniversary, we should get at least these two hours to ourselves today."

"And what are we doing with those two hours?" 

Sansa stood a hand length away from her now, tilting her head to the side.

"There is an intimate lunch being prepared in my office right now."

"There is?"

Sansa came another portion closer. "There is. But I was wondering if you would be willing to consider some further adjustments."

With this, she pressed up against her and Margaery's breath hitched; along with Sansa's tall, soft body, she felt something else, something _hard_.

"Though I am confident you will appreciate this proposal."

Margaery's hands came around Sansa's waist, needing something to hold on; her eyes darted from the intensity of blue eyes down, to where Sansa's hips pressed against her.

She swallowed; excitement and arousal bubbling within her as she now had a very clear picture of where this was going.

"This entire time," she licked at suddenly parched lips. "You were…?"

Sansa got a hold of her ass, giving it a solid squeeze and pulling her forward, rubbing against her instead of an answer.

Margaery's eyes closed at the feeling, an anticipation building in her.

Still, she looked around to where they were, what occasion this was. "And… here?"

It was deeply inappropriate.

So was the way Sansa kissed her; in a way that left no more room for doubts. Lips opened wide, and a tongue dipped deep into her mouth, teeth pulled at her bottom lip as they parted.

"This," again a small grinding of her hips against Margaery, her fingers digging into her ass. "Was supposed to be _dessert_. But after that little show you put on for me, I could not help to be reminded of our first meeting. And how much I wanted to throw you on this table even back then."

Margaery's brain had short-circuited a good thirty seconds prior; with the realisation that Sansa had been sitting in this meeting the entire morning, listening to her go on and on about numbers, and future branches, with a strap on cock, tucked into her pants, ready to fuck her, most likely thinking about fucking her.

All good sense was out the window, along with all thoughts about consequences. She dove forward, finding hot lips in a deep kiss, noting Sansa humming in content into it.

Sansa's fingers started to wander as they kept kissing, stroked from her ass, along the underside of her thighs, teasing the skin at the back of her knees and then back up, fisting into the material of her top and pulling the silk from where it was tucked into her skirt. The very moment she had the seam freed, Sansa's cool palms slipped beneath it, continued her exploration along Margaery's ribs, landing at last on top of her bra clad chest, massaging both her breasts. A second later, she pushed higher, and Margaery raised her arms along with it, letting the material be pulled over her head and disposed on the back of a chair.

The room's AC served a fresh temperature that caused goosebumps to erupt over Margaery's skin, despite the indescribable heat that coiled within her.

When Sansa's lips left hers, they did not leave up for a moment, but worked their over her body, captured an earlobe with her teeth, brushed a hot tongue along the shell of her ear.

She showed her absolutely no mercy or consideration as she moved lower. When she'd reached the skin of her neck, teeth scratched along the length of it, sucked and bit at every inch they could reach, all the way over the sensitive skin of her collarbone to the top of her breasts. 

Teeth sucked at her nipples through white silk. A moment later when she seemed to crave skin-on-skin contact, she did not bother to unhook the garment, merely pulled Margaery's breasts from them, so they perked up over the wire, accented perfectly for Sansa's hot lips.

"It's a shame," Sansa mumbled against the skin over her sternum, having just released a nipple from the torturous caress. "This _skirt_ just begs to be ripped open."

Her fingers played with the seam, tested it with a tug, but did not proceed further. It was the only mercy Sansa showed her; pulling down the zipper on the side of it and helping her shimmy out of it until the black material pooled around Margaery's ankles. 

(She would tear it open later that night. Not a full minute after their apartment door had closed behind them.)

The panty hose Margaery was wearing did not receive such a gentle treatment. Sansa poked short manicured nails through it and ripped the nylon off of Margaery, one leg at a time, her lips following the line of her work and newly naked skin.

Margaery used the seconds in between touches when Sansa's hands and mouth were not driving her crazy to unbutton the vest she was wearing, at last, managed to push it off Sansa's shoulders. It was as far as she got before she found herself pushed back, flat against the table. Her knees drew up by default, legs cramping uncomfortably when she assumed to brace her feet still stuck in heels against the table.

Hands on top of both her knees, Sansa stood before her for a moment, drawing nails over sensitive flesh on the inside of her thighs. Her eyes were training over her in all over her exposed glory.

She leaned forward then, bracing an arm on either side of Margaery's head and moved her hips against her panty clad core, meeting her lips in another one of those kisses that left Margaery positively breathless. She arched up against her, sinking fingers into red hair as they kissed, her hips shooting up again and again, desperate for more friction.

It was nearly enough right then, just a little bit more pressure, a bit further up-- 

And then the hardness pressing against her was gone, Sansa had pushed herself back up into a standing position, holding her securely at her hips, hindering her from moving.

"Ever so impatient," she drawled, and thumbs skimmed over hip bones. "We have time Marge. I told you before, you need to learn to appreciate taking your time."

Finding a way to insult her way of time management while she was sprawled out half-naked on a table, drew a smile from Margaery. "I never had any complains about my time management from you before."

"Like so many things, that is subjective to the perspective you are in."

Sansa's smile widened, and she hooked her fingers beneath the silk material that spanned over Margaery's hips, pulling it down her legs and disposing it on the floor. Once she was exposed to her, Sansa did not lose any time; with one hand on the back of each of her knees, she pulled her towards her, dragged her across the table.

With what willpower and strength she had left Margaery braced herself up on her elbows, smiling at the way Sansa's eyes were drawn to her core.

"It _looks _like you are ready for me," Sansa mused, and then her soft smile turned into a smirk. "Better be safe than sorry though."

In one swift motion, Sansa moved to her knees and buried her face between Margaery's legs. 

It happened so sudden, felt so strong, Margaery fell back against the table, hard. It would have been painful, had it not been for pleasure that streamed through every nerve ending in her body.

Sansa drove her tongue into her, deeply, quickly, again and again into fluttering muscles. It left Margaery breathless, only able to still close her legs around Sansa, her ankles crossing behind her head, heels digging into her back.

She'd understood just around then that she was not going to be coming anytime soon, the way Sansa's lips focused on just about everything, but her clit only proved her right in that suspicion. Not that that could have stopped Margaery from trying. She rocked her hips against Sansa's face, tightened the hold she had on Sansa's hair, but nothing prevailed.

Even the hand that she tried to push down to give herself the much-needed release, Sansa quickly caught and pushed back up, positioned it instead on her breast, together with her own hand on top of it.

She granted her one single, maddeningly brief lick, against her swollen clit, just before she abandoned her work at her pulsing core and went back up. It sent tremors through Margaery's body, had her moan in wanton, but simply was not enough.

Her hand still cupped over her own breast, a nipple standing out between her fingers, Margaery blinked her eyes open slowly, the neon light of the room almost painful a flash. She found Sansa hovering over her, a soft smile on her features, as she unbuttoned her own blouse with tranquillity to her movement that drove Margaery insane.

"Ready for more?" Sansa asked, once her blouse hung open, revealing the absence of a bra that caused Margaery to swallow.

As always, it was not a rhetorical question, but she genuinely expected an answer, even as her hands were already working on the fly of her pants.

With a shuddering breath, Margaery managed a nod and a husky "Yes."

The black silicone dildo sprung from Sansa's fly almost with exactly in time Margaery's breathed agreement. 

Curiously Margaery admired her for a moment. The way she towered over her, red hair loosened in strands around her face, a white blouse open giving her a perfect glimpse of cleavage to see, the black appendage strutting out from the fly of the pants. 

It looked like a perfectly composed outfit. 

When Sansa gave the silicon toy a couple of testing strokes, closing her eyes as the insert pressed against her own clit, Margaery realised that it very much was a look Sansa had consciously chosen; perfected.

The shuddering, oversensitive mess Margaery's body had turned into started shaking when Sansa brought the head of the dildo between her swollen folds, gracing along them, granting her clit frustratingly short attention before slipping back down, pushing the tip of it inside of her.

Margaery's teeth dug into her lower lip, in anticipation, her eyes squeezed shut, and the hand of her breast tightened, when little by little, excruciatingly slow Sansa pushed forward, giving her the necessary moment she needed to adjust to the not inconsiderable girth stretching her.

Only when Sansa's hips where flush against her, the material of her pants (which where undoubtedly ruined at this point) feelable against her spread thighs, Margaery dared to open her eyes.

The feeling of Sansa filling her, along with the way she looked at her -lust, with still a spark of consideration- had her reach out, getting a hold on the material of Sansa's blouse she pulled down so that her weight rested on top of her fully. The shift caused the cock inside of her to move and send another shockwave up her spine. 

Lips found each other in a short, messy, but reassuring kiss and all Margaery was left to do was breathe right into Sansa's ear. 

"Fuck me, love."

She doubted that Sansa ever truly needed the encouragement, but it did the trick. Sansa pushed herself up on her arms, just far enough to get a proper look into Margaery's eyes and then she started moving.

The first couple of thrusts where shallow and gentle, not moving in and out of her more than an inch, only then, once she had gotten ahold of the movement, found the right angle, she, at last, followed the plea and started fucking her.

With the first proper, deep thrust, Margaery's back arched off the table, hands clawing at her back, while she exposed her neck to warm lips, that sucked on her pulse point.

The ache coming from her core, pulsed through her body, had her breaths alternate somewhere between rushed gasps and stifled outdrawn moans. With the pressure that built inside her once again, the realisation and the frustration grew that it was still not enough, not the right kind of friction to give her release.

"Oh Gods, Sansa," Margaery breathed against her. "Please, I need to come."

Sansa smiled against her neck and nibbed on the skin of her shoulder. 

"We are only just getting started," she said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I've waited all morning to have you, I am afraid I will need to fuck you properly."

Her tone was just hoarse enough to let Margaery understand that she drew an immense amount of pleasure from this. Not just teasing her, but also very much physically. Her breathing had sped up not only from the strain of pounding into her but likewise, the proper amount of pleasure she took from this. She accented her words with the hardest thrust yet, that had Margaery's toes curl in her shoes.

"You teased me today, and now it is my turn."

Sansa was panting, underlining her words with a strong thrusts into her.

Because she knew her well because she knew that Margaery was seconds away from reaching between them to give herself some release Sansa caught her hands just in time and brought them over Margaery's head, pushing them flat against the table, a tight grip on her wrists.

"I want you to feel me for the rest of the day, Marge," she husked into her hear ear, her hot breath tickling making it almost unbearable. "You'll sit in your chair later, with a lovely smile, and you will feel _this_."

Hips pounded down into Margaery, drawing a scream from her.

"I want you to be barely able to walk out of here later."

The pleasure that kept building and building (not helped along by the mental images Sansa put into her mind), the frustration, the pent up arousal had Margaery shaking, nearly brought tears to her eyes. Margaery tried to pull her hands free from her grip, whining desperately when Sansa stilled all her movements.

"Behave," she warned. "I can also just stay here like this, buried inside you, and I won't let you come at all."

Not going down without a fight, Margaery rocked her own hips forward, slung a leg around Sansa's hip for leverage, for any kind of friction. It was maddening that this caused Sansa to chuckle, all while Margaery twisted in her hold rubbed against her, squeezed her eyes shut, feeling that like this, maybe it could be enough.

She groaned in colossal frustration when the hard silicon disappeared altogether a moment later, leaving her hips to jump up against nothing, Sansa's warmth gone with it.

"Greedy girl," Sansa taunted, pinching a nipple between her fingers.

With a strength, she had not thought Sansa capable off (or was it her own weakness that helped it along?) she found herself raised to standing position onto shaky legs, twisted and pushed forward onto the table.

It took her a few seconds to gather what had happened, and she raised onto her forearms, flinging a look over her shoulder. Sansa stood behind her with a wide smirk, hands moving over her ass and palming her in languid squeezes.

"A sight to behold," Sansa said and with the words drew the cock along her slit, causing Margaery's head to fall forward with a groan.

"This is something I dreamed off since I saw you walking in here."

Nails raked over Margaery's back, along her sides.

"You don't have any idea how much, even back then I wanted to bend you over this table and fuck that superior little smile right off your face."

Margaery growled, bit out the words slowly and with a good measure of frustration. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Sansa pushed into her without warning, without previous carefulness. She sunk into her deeply, a hold around her hips, and did not let back up for another moment. The sound of skin slapping into skin over and over again filled the room. Sansa brought up a rapid pounding that sucked every last thought and air from Margaery's body. She managed to hold herself up on her forearms for only a good minute and then she fell forward, her forehead resting against crossed arms, her hard nipples drawing over the table with every thrust into her.

In the first moment, Margaery had thought that this position was more manageable than the one before, that it was not as torturously pleasant, but soon she came to realise that that was not more than wishful thinking. In this angle, it was just as bad. Worse even. Sansa was able to thrust into her harder and faster like this, but it came without the pressure against her clit that their previous position had offered. It kept her on the edge, right there, the feeling she longed for within reach of her fingertips but ultimately unreachable.

It bore some irony, just the opposite was true for Sansa; that was something that Margaery realised even in the haze she found herself in. Fingers dug tighter into her hips than before, her breathing was more erratic, gasps of pleasure sounding in the air between them. Sansa worked herself steadily to a climax in fucking Margaery while denying her the same.

It was infuriatingly hot.

She used her, fucked her for only her own pleasure; and it, of course, was precisely that what turned on Margaery even further, made her even more desperate to just come already.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?"

A small smile found its way into her lips when she turned her head to the side, seeing Sansa's face right next to hers. Soft breasts pressing into her back, a sweet kiss to her lips.

"You standing there in that stupid skirt a year ago was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Her movements had slowed down, the hard silicon moved in and out of Margaery slower, in deliberately deep strokes; every time she filled her to the hilt Margaery felt Sansa grinding into her a bit firmer, working with the pressure the clit insert of the cock rooted deep within her, her breathing almost as fast as Margaery's at this point, shuddering against flushed skin, licking hungrily at the nape of her neck.

"Come with me, Marge."

For what she had begged before, longed for, for so long, she was not prepared for when it came. Sansa's hand slipped around her, fingers pressed right into her clit with the perfect amount of pressure, drawing tight circles.

Margaery choked on air in that very moment, to overwhelmed to still have any kind of control left over her limbs, her body, her sounds or thoughts.

She convulsed around Sansa inside of her, clawed at a sheet of paper as the only thing within her reach, pressed her open mouth in a scream against the inside of her upper arm, lights exploding behind her closed eyes.

Sansa's full weight collapsed on top of her, a moan of her own coming from her lips. 

For a little while afterwards, they stayed just like that. Margaery's body trapped against the table by Sansa, her fingers and cock still buried between her legs, a boneless, blissful mass out of sweaty limbs.

The first sense only returned to Margaery when a soft kiss was pressed against the side of her neck. "Happy anniversary."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Comments and Kudos are loved and very much appreciated!


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